


Sugar High

by WildnessBecomesYou



Category: Ratched (TV)
Genre: Dates!, F/F, Fluff, Road Trips, Strawberry Picking, wild little children
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:15:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26954959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WildnessBecomesYou/pseuds/WildnessBecomesYou
Summary: Gwendolyn and Mildred are headed East, away from all that lies behind. They get a little hungry and pause for some fruit picking.
Relationships: Gwendolyn Briggs/Mildred Ratched
Comments: 23
Kudos: 95





	Sugar High

**Author's Note:**

  * For [winonasawyer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/winonasawyer/gifts).



> Okay so! First off, I hope you enjoy this, Winonasawyer! 
> 
> Second, title is from Watermelon Sugar by Harry Styles. That's the vibe. 
> 
> So while today, California produces almost all of the strawberries the US consumes without importing, in the early 50's it's only worth a third of the production. Other big players include Texas and Florida: 
> 
> https://www.theatlantic.com/magazine/archive/1995/11/in-the-strawberry-fields/305754/  
>  _"California did not always dominate American strawberry production. In the early 1950s the state was responsible for only a third of the nation's strawberry crop. Then California strawberry production began to surge, impelled by new growing techniques, new plant varieties, and an abundance of inexpensive labor. From 1974 to 1994 California's strawberry output more than tripled; prices fell, and Americans doubled their consumption of fresh strawberries. Last year California shipped 76 million boxes of fresh strawberries (a box, also called a flat or a tray, holds a dozen pints and weighs roughly eleven and a half pounds), an all-time record. The state now accounts for 80 percent of the strawberries grown in the United States and about a quarter of the world's commercial strawberries._
> 
> There also used to be TONS of different varieties of strawberries! (You can read all of them here: https://extension.psu.edu/strawberry-cultivars-an-historical-view) I went with the "Sparkle" variety, since I think it would have the uh. Reaction. I was looking for. 
> 
> So why Texas? Well, this is set after the long fic that I'm starting to plan. There are some easter eggs of sorts that are in this fic, so have fun with that! I won't give many more hints (sorry!!) but they are traveling east, changing their stories. 
> 
> Also, I-20 and I-30 didn't exist until 1959. But I'm using them anyways because I absolutely had to look at a map, and "Sweetwater" was just such a lovely name that I couldn't resist.

The air is warm and threatening rain as they rumble up the highway; it makes Gwendolyn just a bit sleepy, like a blanket around her body, the smell of blooming bluebonnets wrapping around her until she can nearly taste the sugar in the air. The sun is gentle at this hour— just rising, lifting dew off the blades of grass and wheat. She closes her eyes and leans back in her seat. 

She’s not sure how long she stays that way before Mildred reaches over, brushes her knuckles against Gwendolyn’s cheek. Gwendolyn’s eyes flutter open and she turns to look at Mildred.

The younger woman glances at her with a smile, runs her fingers down Gwendolyn’s arm. The scarf on her neck flutters out behind her, flipping over and away from the newly-healed claw-like scar on her right shoulder. She’s got her hair pulled back into a low ponytail— her normal curls have been left behind for the moment. 

Her lips are still blood red, and her cheeks light up under Gwendolyn’s attention.

“We’re low on gas,” Mildred murmurs. “We’ll have to stop in Sweetwater.” 

“Alright. Are you hungry?” Gwendolyn asks. 

She knows Mildred won’t want to stop long, but they’re out of Mexico, beyond the reach of whatever danger might have lingered. All they own is in the trunk of this car. 

And no one knows where they are.

“A little,” Mildred admits. She bites her lip. “I could do to stretch my legs, at least… I saw a little road sign earlier for a pick-it-yourself farm.”

“Oh!” Gwendolyn sits up a little more. “I bet they have strawberries— it’s the season for it.” 

Mildred glances at her again, brow furrowed. “It’s late April.”

“Yes,” Gwendolyn chuckles. “It’s strawberry season.” 

“I thought that was in July?” 

“Well it lasts that long,” Gwendolyn says, and Mildred huffs in frustration. “Darling, it’s different in each state, too.” 

Mildred swings off the main road, and for a moment Gwendolyn is confused. But then they’re pulling into a gas station she hadn’t noticed before. 

“Fill ‘er up?” the attendant asks as he jogs to their car. 

“Please,” Mildred says, and then looks over at Gwendolyn. “Do you want the paper?” 

Gwendolyn smiles. “No,” she says, wishes she could reach for Mildred’s hand, “no, I think I’m alright.” 

Mildred’s face lights up in a smile, and it’s sweeter than the sugary smell of the bluebonnets drifting in. She graces Gwendolyn with that smile for a few moments, then turns and begins to ask the attendant about the farm. He’s happy to chat, friendly, his southern drawl charming enough to ease the tension behind both ladies. 

“What brings y’all to Sweetwater?” he asks as he’s finishing. 

“Just passing through,” Gwendolyn answers. 

And they are— moving to the East Coast, away from the history the West holds from them. They’re bound for something new, perhaps New York, New Jersey, New England. 

But “passing through” is all the attendant gets. He doesn’t seem bothered by it. 

“Y’all enjoy the farm, now, thank you very much,” he says after they’ve paid, pats the top of the car. Mildred pulls away with a tight smile. 

As soon as they’re back on the road, Mildred reaches for Gwendolyn’s hand. Gwendolyn squeezes, lifts their hands to her lips, rubs her thumb across the back of Mildred’s hand to soothe her. “How’s your hip?” she asks. 

Mildred winces a little. “It’s getting sore. The walking might help.” 

“I can always drive for a bit if you need.”

Mildred sighs. “I know. I was just hoping to get all the way through Texas today.”

“Are you calling me a slowpoke?” Gwendolyn jokes, and Mildred does crack a smile. They’re quiet for a moment. 

“I love you,” Mildred says, and she’s quiet about it, like it brings her peace. 

Gwendolyn hums. “I love you.” 

It’s not long before they’re pulling off the freeway, quickly pulling onto a gravel road. The bouncing doesn’t help the soreness in Mildred’s hip, but they driveway isn’t terribly long, and they’re to the farmhouse soon enough. 

A child runs out of the house as they stand from the car. “Y’all here to pick strawberries?” she calls, her voice loud and brash. Her hands are a little grubby and there’s a green smear across her right cheek. She might be ten, but Gwendolyn thinks she’s probably younger. 

Gwendolyn thinks she’s absolutely charming. “Yes, we were hoping to.”

“Y’don’t pay until you’re done,” the child says, her hands going to her hips as she judges the clothes they have on. “Got any other shoes?”

Mildred blinks in confusion. “No?” 

The child sighs and disappears for a moment, then comes back around the house with two sets of boots and a basket. “Heels don’t do good out on the dirt. Too wet today for that, and Pops won’t like it if you come back yelling about a lost shoe.” 

Mildred smiles despite herself, re-opening the door to the car to sit as she switches shoes. “Well, thank you,” she says, gingerly accepting a pair of shoes and the basket. 

“Sure,” the kid says. 

“Have you got a name?” Gwendolyn asks, taking the boots and leaning against the car as she undoes her own shoes. 

“I’m Kelly,” she says proudly, “like the green color.” 

“Kelly is a good name,” Gwendolyn murmurs. “You can call me Lynn.” 

“I got an aunt named Lynn,” Kelly responds. “She likes whiskey in her tea at night.” 

Gwendolyn smiles and hears Mildred snort. “I’m gonna call you,” she says, pointing at Mildred as she comes around the car, “Red. Cause your hair is.”

Mildred lifts an eyebrow. “Pointing is rude,” she says. Kelly doesn’t lower her finger. 

“Alright,” Kelly says once they’re both ready, hands at her hips again as she leads them towards the field. “We haven’t had many folk out here today, so you’re probably gonna be alone out there. If you get lost, stand up.” Gwendolyn fights back a snort at that. “If you’re in the trees and get lost, just start yelling for me. I’ll come getcha.” She pauses at the edge of the field. “When you’re done, come back here and holler, and I’ll go get Ma so you can pay.” 

“Thank you,” Mildred says, and Kelly nods, bounds off. 

Mildred checks their surroundings for a moment, then takes Gwendolyn’s hand and steps into the field. Gwendolyn melts a little bit. 

They pick mostly in silence, and Gwendolyn doesn’t miss that Mildred is guiding them towards the cover of the trees. Just before they get there, Mildred trips over a vine, her left leg hitting the ground hard, and she yelps. 

“Oh, sweetheart,” Gwendolyn murmurs, scooping up under one arm and holding her firmly by the waist, “come on, let’s sit for a bit.” 

“I’m fine,” Mildred tries to protest, but her leg buckles when she takes another step. 

“Mhm,” Gwendolyn mutters, half-lifting her off the ground and moving the rest of the way into the trees. Once she has Mildred settled down, she sinks to the ground next to her. 

“You’re going to have more trouble with that hip than you want,” Gwendolyn reminds her, slipping an arm around Mildred. Mildred leans against her and sighs. “Just like I had trouble with my side for a while.” 

Mildred nuzzles into Gwendolyn’s neck. “I know,” she mutters. “I just… want it all behind me.” 

“Isn’t it?” Gwendolyn asks. Mildred sighs against her. “It’s behind us. Quite literally. All that’s left to do now is pick some strawberries and make our way East.” 

Mildred doesn’t respond, not verbally. But she sets the basket of strawberries down on the other side of Gwendolyn, reaches up to stroke along her jaw. Gwendolyn waits and watches the way her eyes flit over Gwendolyn’s lips, her cheeks, up to her eyes. 

It’s a soft kiss, the one she presses to Gwendolyn’s lips. But they both sigh into it, and Gwendolyn pulls her closer, savors the feeling for a few moments. “What was that for?” Gwendolyn asks when Mildred eases away. 

“Nothing special,” Mildred says, but there’s a blush across her cheek. “I just…wanted to kiss you.”

Gwendolyn hums, picks a strawberry from their basket. “Well. A perfect excuse.” She offers the strawberry to Mildred. 

Mildred pauses. “We haven’t paid?” 

Gwendolyn chuckles. “Just the one. To motivate us.” Mildred fixes Gwendolyn with a half-scolding look, but she’s hungry enough that she accepts. 

She bites down on the strawberry, her eyes fluttering closed at the taste. A bit of juice escapes her lips and drops down her chin— Gwendolyn swipes the drop away with her thumb, brings the thumb to her lips and sucks the juice off. 

Mildred’s eyes start to burn, pupils getting larger, tongue comes out to trace over her own lips. 

A thick moment passes between them. Mildred’s hand tightens against where it’s been resting on Gwendolyn’s hip. 

Something snaps nearby and they both jump, hands falling away from each other. Gwendolyn clears her throat. “We, uh, we should get going, huh?”

“Yes,” Mildred replies, and her voice is husky, and Gwendolyn tries to ignore that as she eases herself into standing. 

“How’s your hip?” she asks Mildred, offering her hand. Mildred takes it, pulling herself to standing, then reaching for the basket. 

“I can walk,” she says, “but I think you’ll have to drive.” 

Gwendolyn smiles, tugs her close for a moment, presses a kiss to her cheek. “Of course, darling.” 

They move back towards the car, slowly letting go of each other’s hands as they approach the real world again. “Kelly?” Gwendolyn calls, and the girl reappears quickly. 

“Is she okay?” Kelly asks, eyeing Mildred. “Red, you good?” 

Mildred purses her lips against a smile and waves the girl off. “I’m fine, I just tripped.” 

Kelly grins and her teeth are delightfully crooked. “Told ya heels would be bad.” And then she’s off to find her mother. 

“Ma,” as she introduces herself, charges a few dollars for the basket, takes the boots back. She even rinses the strawberries off for them, then helps Mildred find a more northward route on their map. 

Gwendolyn has to adjust her seat slightly from where Mildred’s been sitting, but she keeps her shoes off, knowing they probably won’t stop anytime soon. It’s a few minutes of driving down the road again before Mildred says, “Would you like a strawberry?”

“Hmm?” She glances over, and Mildred has a look on her face like she’s about to tell a joke. “Do I?” 

Mildred bites down on the strawberry and Gwendolyn’s eyes widen just a bit. She yanks her head back to the road and shakes her head. “I am _driving,_ Mildred.” 

Mildred giggles and slides a little closer. Gwendolyn glances at her again and notices she has another strawberry between her fingers. She rolls her eyes and sighs, turning her head to the side. The strawberry in Mildred’s fingers brushes against her lips, and she opens her mouth, wraps her lips around the fruit. 

It’s crisp, and juicy, and it tastes better than anything she’s eaten in days. She lets a moan go and feels Mildred stiffen beside her. 

“Worth the stop?” Mildred asks breathlessly. 

“Dunno,” Gwendolyn murmurs, shoots her a smile. “Depends on how long they last.” 

Mildred shivers and rolls down a window, rests a hand on Gwendolyn’s thigh. “We’re going to stay on this road until it hits Fort Worth.” She tucks her hair back behind her ear with her free hand. “Maybe there’ll be a good diner there to grab some lunch.” 

Gwendolyn smiles, moves her right hand to cover Mildred’s.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope y'all liked it! Drop a comment below :) <3


End file.
